


Forever Starts Tonight

by peanuts_envy



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Antos origins, Dreams, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Memories, Mutual Pining, Pining, Reunion and Post-Reunion, Reunions, Song Fic (in-game song), The Song of Achilles References, figs n lyres, indulgent fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:13:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28781808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peanuts_envy/pseuds/peanuts_envy
Summary: Zagreus looked at Patroclus so earnestly and told him of Eurydice and Orpheus.Reunited.He spoke of Sisyphus, no longer eternally tormented by the Furies of Tartarus.A pact undone.Patroclus' mind buzzed so loudly he started to lose the thread of conversation.Is it really possible?Sequel:Can't Just Ask(Patroclus/Achilles/Zagreus)
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 60
Kudos: 306





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I've read Song of Achilles, played 200+ hours of Hades, blew through these tags like it was my j-o-b. I am brain sick and will not stop talking about Patrochilles. They are IN love and they WILL be together.

_Your ashes, sir. They were buried together._

  
The shock and numbness Patroclus felt at the words were a small blessing, as it held back the groundswell of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He was able to hold out until the iron door closed behind Zagreus, but no longer. Patroclus' shoulders hunched forward as he let out a dry sob. Bones and ash on the surface were closer to Achilles than he could ever hope to be. The cruelty of the fates followed him still, in this apparent paradise. _The fool. We could have lived._

Patroclus tightened his fist in the grass as the tears came in earnest. _Why have you left me here alone? Why can our bodies rest together, but not our souls? Achilles._

_Achilles, my heart. Where are you?_

The prince had told him things about what happened after that he hadn't heard before. _He soon followed in a rage_ , is what Zagreus had said. The story was different than what he heard in Elysium.

Patroclus had sought answers of Achilles' death before, from shades that had been at Troy. Several of them had been sent to the Underworld by Achilles' spear directly, to his initial surprise. 

The way the shades spoke about him would have made his stomach turn if it were still capable. A ruthless killer, filling the river Scamander so completely with bodies he sparked the ire of the deity residing within. _I saw him kill Hector_ said one shade. _You were lucky, I had to see what he did to him afterwards_ said another.

He had tried to listen to more, but to hear of the brutality, and to hear it spoken of as glorious-- _heroic_ \--was too much. He'd wandered back to the open glade by the river; its familiarity didn't give him comfort, but he was alone. 

Patroclus did not want seek out the Trojan shades again. There was nothing new to learn from braggarts, liars. His back settled against the cold stones as he stared up into the endless, starless sky. He sighed.

_What else didn't he know?_

He slept.

\---

He dreamed. They were always still young in his dreams. Their deaths so far away, their problems so small. Before the years of war had torn at them both, taken everything dear and then more, more.

They had not yet arrived at Troy; the terrible place that was supposed to bring Achilles eternal glory and where he would lose his life. Here, at camp, Achilles was seemingly needed at all times--he was a commander and _Aristos Achaion_ , the _'best of the Greeks'_ \--so Patroclus found himself alone much of the time. He didn't mind, he was solitary by nature and was content to remove himself from the constant flurry of activity. But gods, did he miss Achilles.

Achilles' attention was pulled in so many directions and it was increasingly rare to see him during the day, such a far cry from what Patroclus had grown used to. In Phthia, they had spent nearly every waking moment with each other; now, there was only night. Patroclus found himself fiercely protective of this time with Achilles, making clear that the commander was not to be bothered once he had retired to his tent.

Achilles entered their tent with an exasperated sigh and unclasped his heavy cloak, heaving it aside carelessly. The camp was buzzing with life still, even this far into the night. His expression warmed instantly when he saw Patroclus, who was sitting on on the floor at the end of their bed, whittling at a piece of soapstone.

"There you are." Patroclus said, his tone admonishing, but his eyes alight.

"At last." he agreed. He stretched out on the bed behind Patroclus, reaching across Pat's lap and into a bowl of olives. There was nothing they didn't share and this was no different, but there was a mischief in his smile. _What are you going to do about it?_ Patroclus liked this game and he could play it, too. _Nothing._ Achilles held his gaze for a moment and grinned wider, then turned his eyes to the stone in Pat's hand.

"What are you making?"

Patroclus held open his hand, the peachy marbled stone was beginning to take the shape he intended--a cow.

"Can you guess what it is?"

"It's Odysseus' wife."

" _Achilles_."

He grinned again, and Patroclus could see the olive pit stored in his cheek. Patroclus knew this game, too.

"Do not."

"What?" Achilles moved his jaw subtly, his eyes sparkling. _Or else what?_ Patroclus snorted a laugh.

"Reconsider or you will be sleeping alone tonight, Achilles." The pit landed with a light _plink_ in the bowl next to Patroclus. His aim was impeccable, even in this. Patroclus snorted again. Achilles propped his chin up and watched Patroclus carve, taking olives and sending their pits in a small arc over Pat's head with a nearly silent movement of his mouth. He was still being deliberately distracting, he wanted Patroclus' attention and hands on him. 

His fingers slid along Patroclus' shoulders, down his chest. _Pay attention to me, not this little trinket._ Pat leaned his head back to look up at Achilles, who kissed the bridge of his nose.

"Come to bed."

"Mm. Are you weary, dear Achilles?" he teased.

"You know I am not." He smiled, his cat's smile, and traced the hem of Patroclus' chiton. "Come, I have thought of nothing else today."

Patroclus felt his cheeks warm at Achilles' words and his hands, now under the fabric of his chiton, drawing closer to what he wanted. 

"Look at you, helping yourself to whatever you want." Patrolus' tone was still teasing, but he was setting aside his carving tools to join Achilles in bed. He was more than happy to give Achilles what he was after and, same as Achilles, he hadn't thought of much else that day.

They undressed each other with a practiced ease and found each other again, limbs fitting together like they weren't meant to be apart. Patroclus' desire always overwhelmed him when he was with Achilles, whose hands were deft and ceaseless, seeking out every spot that brought Patroclus' pleasure. Achilles knew them all, of course; he was more studious in learning them than any other skill he'd sought to master. Patroclus reveled in being undone by him, the sighs and gasps Achilles pulled from him so easily.

When Achilles pulled away he was flushed down to his chest and his eyes were dark, staring into Patroclus'. His gaze was filled with so much lust that Patroclus shivered under its intensity. 

"What do you wish to do?" Patroclus said, his voice thick.

"Everything," he breathed, "I would have you take your pleasure from me," Achilles pulled him in for a kiss, deep and so full of fire that Patroclus groaned and arched against him. "Anything you desire, philtatos." _Most beloved_. 

" _Achilles_." Patroclus felt dizzy with love and lust, wanting nothing more than to indulge Achilles, again and again. They made love well into the night, unable to fully sate their thirst for each other.

Patroclus held Achilles close as he slept, stroked his golden hair and listened to him breathe. This is what Patroclus cherished most, these moments of calm that he was able to give this man he loved so dearly. 

\---

Patroclus reached his hand out and felt cool stone under his fingers where he had expected to feel a soft bed, warm flesh. He opened his eyes to the green fields of Elysium, and wept.

\---

Zagreus looked at Patroclus so earnestly and told him of Eurydice and Orpheus. _Reunited_. He spoke of Sisyphus, no longer eternally tormented by the Furies of Tartarus. _A pact undone_. Patroclus' mind buzzed so loudly he started to lose the thread of conversation. _Is it really possible?_

"I mean, we're really changing afterlives down there," Zagreus said, "I'm going to figure this out. Achilles loves you and you love him and you should be together. I will make this happen, sir."

He spoke as though saying something with enough belief would make it true. Patroclus recalled what he'd heard of Sisyphus' trickery in the Underworld, slights against the gods and Death himself. He'd done no such things, earned no such ire. But he also had not earned favor, except with this godling: telling him that his dreams _will_ come true, _why shouldn't they?_

_'When you next see my Achilles, tell him I said to risk it all.'_

\---

Patroclus was next to the river Lethe, as he often was, but these days or nights were different. Since he had last spoke with Zagreus, the deep yearning he'd held for so long felt unbearable. Achilles felt closer than ever. Not just a memory, someone who was _real_ , someone he could touch. Patroclus hoped his words would reach Achilles, as they hadn't-- _couldn't_ \--before. 

  
_Risk it all._

  
_Would he listen this time?_

_What would happen if the pact was broken? Would Charon bring Achilles upriver and Patroclus would tearfully wave, like a maiden whose husband had returned from war? Would the great iron door he watched so forlornly open, revealing his shining hero, returned to him at last?_

_You idiot_. He sighed, doubt seeping in in the Prince's absence. Zagreus had mystified him with his tales like Patroclus had seen Odysseus do so many times to his men. A fantasy to placate and nothing more.

He saw the God of the Dead and his son: "The shade was a murderer in life, boy. He should be at the end of the Furies' whips in Tartarus. Yet he resides in Elysium, in the halls of the exalted--and still demands more."

Yes, Hades would surely uphold the pact and Zagreus would be made to give up this little game. _But Sisyphus. Orpheus, Eurydice. Why not him?_ Patroclus sighed through his nose. As with so many things, he just had to wait.

  
\---

  
Zagreus had revised the pact and Achilles could go to Elysium. Achilles heard the words, but couldn't believe them--the moment he'd longed for and dreamed of and simultaneously denied himself was here. Achilles felt it, though, his soul was no longer bound to the House of Hades, to Tartarus. It was true. _He could go_. He could go _now_.

 _Patroclus_.

"Lad, I... I can't believe this--not that I didn't have trust in you, it's just--" 

"He waits for you, sir. You shouldn't keep him waiting any longer."

"I am...unprepared, I did not expect this to happen all at once, like this--"

"That sounds like fear talking, Achilles, sir."

"Indeed, lad." He swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. "I will bid you farewell, then. And thank you, lad. I will forever be grateful for this."

Achilles closed his eyes, thought of Elysium, and vanished. 

  
\---

  
Patroclus heard the sound first, like a rush of wind, below him in the glade. He sat up warily, expecting to find an exalted, a flame chariot, some other annoyance that traveled through the Underworld in this way. A startled noise left his throat, too quiet for the other figure to hear, the Lethe flowed between them and the other figure seemed distracted. 

_Achilles._

Patroclus held his breath and felt almost too afraid too move, as if moving would make Achilles vanish, would shake Patroclus out of what was surely a dream. He watched Achilles crane his neck up and marvel at the towering statue that stood in the glade, his eyes full of wonder, bright and dancing. 

_Like the Achilles he remembered, the Achilles he dreamed of._

Not the dull, stone-faced Achilles that he had become in Troy, but the guileless, kind-hearted Achilles that Patroclus had fallen in love with so completely, in another life.

_Can this be real? Is it really you?_

Achilles' eyes fell on him, widening, and Patroclus let out the breath he had been holding.

"Achilles." Patroclus almost had to force the word out, his throat was already tight with emotion. _If this is a dream, do not let it end._

Achilles ran to him then and Patroclus stood to meet him, hope and fear warring in his heart. _Please do not wake up._ They embraced, tight enough to hurt but the desperation too much to hold back.

"Patroclus." Achilles was shivering, his face pressed flush against Pat's neck. "Patroclus, Patroclus--my beloved, I am so sorry--"

"Achilles." he whispered back, tears coming freely from them both. He tried to clutch him even closer. _Surely, this is when the dream would end. This falsehood. This fantasy._ But, it did not. Achilles pulled his head back, flushed and wet with tears. He kissed Patroclus then, something Patroclus had resigned himself to never being able to experience again, yet Achilles' lips pressed against his. The kiss was slow, it carried too many heavy emotions to move quickly. 

"So long I have been without you, my heart," Patroclus murmured and closed the distance between them again.

It was impossible to know how much time had passed, time flowed so differently in the Underworld. Long enough for tears to dry, for them to part from their embrace and settle on the grass together. They shared a comfortable silence, their shoulders curled against each other and fingers entwined. Patroclus raised Achilles' hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, thrilled that this simple act of affection was not something to mourn anymore. Patroclus pulled him close, slid his fingers into Achilles' hair and pressed their lips together.

They were both drunk on it, being able to enjoy each other without feeling the Sword of Damocles above them. _They had time now._ Achilles eased Patroclus down into the soft grass and leaned over him, his golden hair falling around them. Lips met again and moved slowly, unhurried. Their kisses deepened, but there was no urgency, no fevered stripping of clothes. Just their soft breaths when they parted, lazy smiles before their lips found each other again--unable to stop and not wanting to.

"I would have us do this for all eternity." Achilles mumbled, gazing down at Patroclus so sweetly he could feel his phantom heart skip a beat. Achilles leaned down to kiss Patroclus on his beard, then the curve of his throat, sending a visible shiver through him. 

"Then Elysium would be my paradise, at last." Patroclus said and tilted his head back, Achilles pressed closer to kiss behind his ear. Love and want made his heart flip, made the coiling pleasure in his stomach tighten. Patroclus hummed as Achilles continued to kiss and nip at his neck. Achilles knew where to drag his teeth, where to graze his tongue, to make Patroclus arch under him. Their lips met again, with more passion and heat than before. They didn't part for a long time, so consumed by the pleasure of being able to _kiss_ again, the soft heat of each other's mouths thought lost to them forever. Time stretched on and on, but they had it to spare.

Achilles moved to sit up and Patroclus made a noise of protest, tugging at his cloak to try to keep him close.

"Philtatos, my heart--" Achilles started to say, covering Pat's hand with his. 

_No. Not yet._

"Achilles--"

"I will return soon, Patroclus. I swear it." his tone was soft, reassuring.

Patroclus did not want to be reassured. He wanted to feel Achilles' weight on top of him.

"Just a while longer."

"Patroclus, you know I must--"

"You would leave without finishing what you started?" Patroclus tugged at Achilles' cloak again, held his gaze. "Allow me this, Achilles. I won't keep you long and besides--" Patroclus dropped his eyes to the obvious bulge in Achilles' chiton, smiling fiendishly, "Would they really want you at your post in this state?"

"All right, but--as you say, I cannot stay lo--" A sharp, final tug on his cloak pulled Achilles into a rough kiss, which he returned with equal fervor. Achilles groaned, shoved away the fabric of their cloaks, hiked up their chitons. Patroclus was struck by the familiarity: rutting against Achilles while fully-clothed, knowing that responsibilities called him elsewhere, but their desire for each other outweighed all.

Skin touched skin where it mattered, delicious friction and heat pushing them to move faster, grind harder. Their kissing became a clashing of lips and tongues, desperately seeking out pleasure, matching the fevered pace of their hips.

Achilles thighs trembled as the coiling in his stomach tightened; he was close, he could feel it. Patroclus slid a hand between them and wrapped it around Achilles' cock, who let out a groan of satisfaction and thrust into his fist. They pressed their foreheads together, too overwhelmed to kiss, too focused on the driving heat between them.

Achilles dipped his head and buried it in Patroclus' neck, panting hard as he drove his cock again and again into Pat's fist, chasing his pleasure. 

"Patroclus-- _Patroclus_ ," Achilles half-sobbed as he came, shuddering through his orgasm. Their lips clashed again, fevered, intensified by the high of Achilles' climax. Achilles' hand was on Patroclus a moment later, his fingers so deft at this task that he made Patroclus shake with need. His hand moved easily, the come on Pat's cock making the movements slick. Patroclus' orgasm overtook him, dizzying and all-consuming--he was dimly aware of Achilles' voice close to his ear, bringing him higher still. 

They stayed like this for a few moments, allowed themselves to enjoy the feeling of spent bliss. 

Patroclus watched as Achilles' readjusted his chiton, made himself look presentable. _He would be back. There would be many more moments like these_. Patroclus made no move to right his own clothes, he had no post to be off to. He felt like he had no worries at all.

"Now, I really, truly must go." Achilles said, kneeling to give Patroclus a kiss farewell.

"When you return--" Patroclus smiled, their lips still so close, and he couldn't help but steal another kiss. "Would you be able to bring some oil along with you?" Achilles blushed hotly at the request, its insinuation. 

"That...would be easy enough to procure, yes." he answered in almost a whisper. "Patroclus--"

"I know." Still, neither of them moved. Patroclus pressed a kiss to the corner of Achilles mouth and gave his forearm a reassuring squeeze. "Go, Achilles. I will be waiting for you." They kissed again.

Achilles stood, but didn't hurry, letting his eyes wander over Patroclus, who'd reclined back on his elbows. Achilles wanted to memorize him like this: sated, his thighs still spread, the gentle rise and fall of his stomach that was still messy with--

When their eyes met, Patroclus was grinning.

 _Go_ , he mouthed. 

Achilles grinned, too, and returned to the House of Hades.

  
\---

  
_Come on, Achilles! I want details, here! What happened with you two? If you don't mind._

  
_Achilles laughed._

  
_Well--thankfully, your efforts meant that no words really needed to be said, when I arrived. He simply said my name. And then we just were--two souls in one spot._

_The way shades linger...it looks mournful, doesn't it? But it isn't always._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Achilles and Patroclus adjust to their new afterlives, where they're both happy and content. Achilles takes a shopping trip and Patroclus explores the Elysian gardens, both seeking a gift for the other. They make new memories, unmarred by the horrors of war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song of Achilles still has such a hold on my homosexual heart--I wanted to mix the lore of Hades and TSoA and give them the soft tender ending they deserve. We got lyres and figs, people!

The change that happened in Achilles was so plain, so obvious, he knew everyone in the House of Hades could see it.

The usually stoic warrior had a grin that came to him unbidden and often. Achilles couldn't help it; he felt like all the butterflies in Elysium fluttered in his chest, he felt as light as air. _He would see Patroclus again soon._ The thought sent such a spark of joy through him that he began to drum his fingers against his spear with restless, excited energy.

At the end of the hall, Thanatos turned his head just slightly away from the river Styx--an acknowledgement that he heard Achilles' restless tapping, he did not like it, but would say nothing.

Achilles' stilled his hand and resolved to stay present, to focus on work. An impossible task. He grinned again. _What will they do next time they're together? What should he bring with him? Oil, of course; he hadn't forgotten. How could he? But-- He should bring a gift, should he not?_ Zagreus had given him a bottle of Ambrosia to share with Patroclus that he would bring, certainly. Achilles hadn't brought it with him when he first saw Patroclus, he had decided that a decadent gift might look insincere, like Patroclus' forgiveness could be bought.

_But now--_

His mind swirled with fantasies of sweet Ambrosia and sweeter Patroclus, how they would share the drink of the gods and make love and-- _focus. Focus on work._

A smile broke across his face. _Patroclus, Patroclus, Patroclus._

\---

Achilles stood in front of Charon's wares, unsure of himself. In his hand already was a vial of oil and enough obols to pay for it, but he did not consider that a gift for Patroclus, _per se_. The bottle of Ambrosia was lovely and would undoubtedly be a treat, but it was, technically, from Zagreus.

"Haaaahhhhh." Charon breathed purple smoke in his direction.

"Yes, I know." _Hurry up_ , Charon seemed to say. Perhaps he was looking to go on a break, too. Achilles handed the boatman the amount of obols for the oil, his eyes still searching the shelves upon shelves of wares for something Patroclus would like.

The obols disappeared from Charon's hand, then reappeared in a far corner to stack themselves on an impossibly tall, gleaming pile of the things. Achilles turned to watch the _plink, plink, plink_ of coin--he couldn't help himself--and was struck by an item he missed. _Oh._

"How much for the lyre?" Achilles asked, already emptying his coin purse.

\---

Patroclus hadn't seen much of Elysium in the time that he'd been there--he never desired to. What was the use? He knew what he wanted wasn't anywhere he could reach. But now--what stopped him, now?

He considered the last time he left the glade--how many days or nights had it been? When was the last time he had even stood, before Achilles arrived? Patroclus recalled the stories he'd heard of nymphs so overcome with grief that they turned into trees, silent and stoic for all eternity. He knew this would not happen to a shade. _Did he? Did he know this for sure?_ Patroclus looked down at the grass below him and felt a pang of unease. _It is just grass, you fool. Stop this._

Patroclus decided--unrelated to his creeping fear of turning into a tree--that a walk would do him well. He stood, hesitated. _Where would he go?_ Then, a more troubling thought _. What if he couldn't find his way back? No, that doesn't make sense. One would not get lost in paradise._ More worries came to him. _What if Achilles came to the glade and he was not there? What if Achilles wasn't really coming back at all--_

 _No._ Patroclus willed the downward spiral of his thoughts to stop. He would take a walk, a simple pleasure he enjoyed in life, and everything would be fine. Was he, a Myrmidon, truly afraid of a stroll through a meadow? His feet would not move.

He imagined what Achilles would say: _What did you do, in my absence? Tell me everything._

And what would Patroclus tell him? _I almost took a walk, and then I didn't._ He dragged his hand over his face and willed himself to move toward the towering, shining door to the unknown beyond.

_Oh._ Patroclus was taken aback by the astounding beauty of the Elysian gardens. The Queen Persephone was said to have crafted this splendor with her own hands, providing a verdant respite for herself as well as the residents of Elysium. The air was sweet with the smell of flowers and fruit; butterflies danced among the blossoms--so much color, so much _life._ Everywhere he looked, a wonder.

Patroclus mused, as his eye caught sight of a row of leeks--each one unblemished and perfectly symmetrical--if Achilles had outgrown his childish aversion to onions. Something he could ask, when Achilles visited again. Was there food at all, down in Tartarus? Certainly not like this. The sprawling expanse of fruit trees and shrubs, vines heavy with grapes in every variety, neatly arranged and tied to ornate trellises.

He was startled out of his thoughts by the nearby splash of a fish. _'A charp!'_ he remembered Zagreus exclaiming, his face triumphant after. Patroclus shook his head. If he had been told then, that the son of Hades would be the catalyst that brought Achilles back to him--he might have drawn a spear on the idiot messenger. _I have watched that boy eat food he found in an urn,_ Patroclus might have said. _He is a fool and you are a liar._ Now, Patroclus knew that this was only half-true.

Patroclus made his way along the winding paths, curiosity and wonder guiding his feet. He recognized many plants and herbs from his mortal life; Chiron had insisted that Patroclus and Achilles both learn basic medicine when he trained them on Mount Pelion. He still remembered which he would need to heal wounds, to ward off infection--things he didn't need to concern himself with anymore. His hands gathered them anyway, for no other reason than it being pleasant to do, picking flowers and fragrant herbs that reminded him of Greece. He still had sweet memories from then, growing up alongside Achilles. Patroclus never gave himself completely over to the river Lethe and for that he was now so grateful.

_'Patroclus, look!' Achilles shouted. He was just a boy, maybe twelve. 'Figs!'_

_Achilles had been standing next to Patroclus just a moment before--he was so swift, unnaturally so--now he was high up on the branch of a fig tree, upside-down and waving at him, beckoning him over. Patroclus beamed up at him, opened his palms. A fig dropped into his hands not a moment later._

_'Go further back, now.' Achilles instructed, grinning. Patroclus widened the distance between them, opening his palms again. Another fig, a triumphant shout from them both. Patroclus ran back to the base of the tree, laughing._

_'Drop more, I'll catch them.' Patroclus held the fabric of his chiton taut in front of him, a makeshift basket. Achilles giggled, scrambled further up the tree._

Patroclus smiled at the memory, and at the fig tree before him. He started to look for ones that were not underripe and immediately felt silly--of course, they were all immaculate, perfect in every way. Perhaps the fates were not so cruel after all.

He gathered up his cloak and wondered if Achilles would climb this tree, were he here. He saw it so easily: Achilles excitedly bidding Patroclus to watch--then scaling the branches with ease, hooking his calves over one, falling back. _Figs!_

 _Yes,_ Patroclus thought. _I think he would._

\---

Patroclus' earlier fears were not realized; he did not get lost, he did not turn into a tree. From what he could tell the glade was as undisturbed as he'd left it. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Patroclus imagined what Achilles might be doing in this moment, this day or night. He didn't know what the House of Hades looked like now--or then, really--Patroclus was only there once, and very long ago. He did not notice the scenery. _Perhaps I will ask Achilles when he arrives_ , he thought. Patroclus grinned wide and hummed at the thought.

He rested comfortably on the lush grass of Elysium, he felt like the unbearably heavy burden on his heart had been lifted. The smell of flowers lingered on his clothes, his hands. For once in his afterlife, he felt at peace.

\---

The iron door at the foot of the glade opened, closed. _Ah, a visitor._ This time, he wasn't seized with dread.

"Hello, sir!" Zagreus' voice carried from the entrance, boisterous and excited. Patroclus lifted his hand in a return greeting as the prince busied himself with the destruction of the urns below. A loud crack, then a flurry of metal against stone. "Ooh, money!" the prince exclaimed. He bounded up the stairs shortly after, greeting Patroclus again with an earnest grin.

"Hail, stranger. How goes your journey to the surface, on this day or night?" Patroclus offered him supplies, as usual, pleased he could help Achilles' ward in this small way.

"Very well! I had a sporting contest of strength with Charon in Erebus and was victorious, I would have you know." Zagreus sounded proud.

"You took up arms against the boatman of Styx? For what _possible_ reason, stranger?"

"Hermes wagered that I could not best Charon in a fight." he answered easily, as though it were a simple thing and not one-on-one combat with a primordial deity.

Patroclus looked back at him, almost in awe. _To win a bet, of course. A challenge to his prowess and skill that he could not turn down. This boy reminded him so much of Achilles._

"This is new! Are they yours?" Zagerus pointed to the fruits of Patroclus' earlier stroll. The prince gasped, then lowered his voice conspiratorially, "Are these gifts for Achilles? Oh, sir! You should know how elated he has been since he visited you here in Elysium! Thanatos says Achilles won't stop 'blushing like a maiden' which _sounds_ bad coming from him, but I think it's really great. I think it's just great. He really loves figs too, you can't find mortal foods that much down in Tartarus; he'll be so thrilled."

"I'd appreciate your discretion, stranger."

"Oh, I don't--Than and I weren't--I didn't mean to cause any offense, he just mentioned he saw Achilles' at his post after visiting here, I don't mean to gossip about you, of course--" Zagreus stumbled over an apology Patroclus had no use for. Patroclus was deeply amused that Achilles was apparently at his post being so outwardly lovesick that Death himself took notice.

"I mean do not tell Achilles of the gifts, stranger. It is meant as a surprise."

" _Right._ Right. Oh!" Zagreus fumbled in his chiton, pulled out a small black-and-gold card. Patroclus had never seen anything of the sort before. "From my contest with Charon! If you purchase any of his wares, he'll lower his prices if you show this. I'll have another for myself, soon enough. We're good mates, me and Charon!" Zagreus urged the card at Patroclus, not taking no for an answer.

"I... thank you, stranger. Zagreus. I wish you luck on the rest of your journey."

"Have a wonderful day or night, sir!"

And then the boy was gone. Patroclus huffed a laugh, tucking the strange card away and reaching for a fig. He imagined Achilles, at his guard post in the House of Hades--golden and beautiful, blushing like a maiden.

\---

Patroclus flipped the odd card between his fingers, enjoying the satisfying weight of it. He had not visited Charon's shop before, he felt like facing a chthonic god was too big of an ask, still. Patroclus was not so used to their kind as Zagreus and Achilles were. He remembered the towering figure--the billowing purple smoke, the sunken face, the inhuman glow of his eye and death rattle instead of a voice.

_We're good mates, me and Charon!_

Patroclus was musing about the strange company he kept when he heard a sound, close to him, like a rush of wind. A grin spread across his face and his phantom heart began to pound. He shrugged off his cloak and used it to cover the figs next to him, breathless with excitement.

Achilles appeared before him then and Patroclus stood to embrace him, though not quite with the desperate clinging of their first meeting. There was not so much overwhelming emotion, just radiating happiness that hummed between them.

Achilles grinned, tilting his head at Patroclus. "It may be an odd thing to say, but I swear that you smell exactly like Phthia." _Like home_ , is what Achilles thought.

"Ah, it is not so odd." Patroclus was grinning, too, he couldn't help it.

"What is this? A trick of Elysium or a trick of yours?" His tone was amused, curious.

"Come, I have a surprise for you." Patroclus knelt in the grass, beckoned Achilles to sit with him. He could tell Achilles was excited, his green eyes sparkled and he could hardly sit still. _A surprise, for me? What is it? What is it?_

Patroclus unfolded his cloak, showing Achilles all that he had found on his stroll through the gardens.

"Figs!" Achilles exclaimed.

\---

"Patroclus, I have gifts for you, as well," Achilles said, reaching into his cloak.

 _I should hope you do_ , Patroclus thought, remembering his parting request for Achilles: oil, for, _well._ Patroclus leaned back on his elbows, regarding Achilles with amusement.

"Do you, dear Achilles? I am always willing to receive your gifts," Patroclus said, voice heavy with insinuation. Achilles blushed at his words and let out a breathy laugh.

"That is not what I _meant_ , though--yes, I was able to get oil. I did not forget. The lad gave us something to share, and I went to Charon's shop as well--" Achilles showed him the bottle of Ambrosia first; the contents of which looked like shimmering gold in the ornate crystal decanter. Patroclus had only heard about such a thing from stories, the drink of the gods--the greatest delicacy one could imagine. "--and I found this, can you believe it?"

Achilles next showed him the small wooden lyre, like one a bard would travel with. It was made of a beautiful dark wood, well-crafted and well cared for; someone loved this instrument, once. Achilles' fingers plucked delicately at the strings and Patroclus' heart swelled so completely he thought it might burst out of his chest.

"I made the mistake of telling Orpheus I used to play, he was nothing but encouraging. He said he understood if I did not want to, for he knew what it was like to lose his muse." Achilles reached out and touched Patroclus' knee, stroked his thigh. "I thought you might like to hear some of Orpheus and Eurydice's music, though I know I do not match their talent. Would you indulge me?"

Patroclus nodded, his throat suddenly tight with emotion. "Yes, I would like that."

They drank first; Achilles insisted it would make his singing voice sound better for Pat. _I am terribly out of practice_ , he'd said.

If that were true, Patroclus didn't notice; he was captivated, enraptured by his beloved's song. His flowing, golden hair fell over his face as he played; his fingers danced across the strings. Patroclus drew his legs to his chest and rested his chin on them, watching with adoration, wonder. _He is so beautiful. He is a miracle. We have so much time, now._ Tears came; he was so overcome with joy.

_No hunger_

_No sleep except to dream_

_Mild and warm_

_Safe from all harm_

_Calm_

\---

Achilles leaned close and kissed his forehead, wiped the remaining tears from Patroclus' cheeks. He seemed to understand that these weren't tears of despair, unhappiness. His eyes shined, too.

Achilles removed the laurels from Patroclus' hair delicately, ran his fingers through dark curls after. His touch was so light.

"Patroclus, my heart."

Their lips met then, the sweet taste of Ambrosia and each other was delicious, intoxicating. Achilles eased Patroclus onto his back and kissed him again, unhurried, but alight with desire. Their hands roamed, tracing familiar lines over each other; cloaks were unclasped and discarded, garments were untied, undone. Hands found skin and began roaming anew.

"Show me, Achilles," Patroclus said, his voice low, "that you haven't forgotten how to satisfy me in this way." He stretched out in the grass, pulling the line of his body taut and parting his legs under Achilles.

"I would sooner forget my own name, philtatos." _Most beloved._

Patroclus hummed as Achilles moved off him, settled between Pat's open thighs. His thoughts were foggy with lust; he could not tear his eyes away from Achilles' hands, dizzy with anticipation of what they were going to do to him. Achilles poured oil into his palm and wrapped Patroclus in its slickness, stroking him with gentle, practiced motions. Pat's eyes fluttered closed and he moaned, letting his legs fall open further. His hips moved of their own accord, stuttering and jerking under Achilles' touch.

" _Achilles, yes--_ " Patroclus whispered when he felt a finger push into him, making him shiver. He ground his hips down, wanting more of the feeling, more of Achilles. He was obliged immediately; Achilles so often knew what Patroclus wanted without the need for words. Soon, more oil, another finger. His thighs trembled and Achilles stroked them lightly, soothingly. The sensations were all delicious and almost overwhelming: the feeling of being stretched, filled, the thought of more to come--

Patroclus cried out when Achilles curled his fingers; he could swear he saw stars. He clutched at Achilles' shoulders and ground his hips, making a desperate sound. Patroclus knew how he must look; he didn't care. _More, more_. Achilles kissed him hard and Patroclus returned the kiss hungrily-- _more_ \--both of them moaned when Achilles started to thrust his fingers faster, harder.

"Yes, _yes, ah--hah--_ " Patroclus panted out as Achilles undid him so quickly, so completely. He felt his thighs being pushed open further still, fingers never ceasing, giving him no respite from the all-consuming need that thrummed in him. He felt wild with lust, his thoughts and words reduced to only _yes_ and _more_. Achilles withdrew his fingers, then, and Patroclus could not hold back the whine from his throat. He saw Achilles was slicking his cock with oil; the only acceptable reason for his hands to be off of him in this moment, he thought. _Yes. More._

"You would agree, that I have not forgotten, my dear Patroclus?" Achilles said, his voice thick with desire. Patroclus didn't know how to respond, he had no words when Achilles' cock rubbed against him this way. Achilles breathed a laugh and leaned over him, kissing behind Patroclus' ear.

"Achilles, please--"

Achilles hummed in response and kissed Patroclus deeply, reaching between them to ease his cock into him, drawing a moan from them both when their hips were flush against each other. Achilles rocked against him, pressing their chests together; there was no part of them that was not connected. Their hands found each other above Patroclus' head and their fingers entwined as Achilles started to thrust in earnest. _Yes, more._

Patroclus wrapped his shaking thighs around Achilles' waist and met his thrusts eagerly, each one sending sparks of pleasure through him. Achilles panted against his neck and murmured sweet words to him, praises and encouragement that tightened the coiling heat in Patroclus' groin, made him breathless.

"Pat, ah-- I won't last, you are so _nnh_ \--so good--"

"I want it, I want you to--" He swallowed thickly and clenched himself around Achilles, grinding down hard.

" _Gods, Patroclus_ ," Achilles moved his hands to Patroclus' hips and thrust into him more roughly, his even rhythm faltering as he neared his climax. Achilles' hips stuttered against Patroclus' and he let out a shaky groan, chasing the orgasm that hit him like a bolt of lightning a moment later.

Patroclus moved with Achilles as he rode out his pleasure, tightened his thighs around him and took what Achilles had to give. They stayed this way for a few moments, rocking gently against each other until the stimulation became too much. Achilles drew his hips back slowly and Patroclus whimpered.

"What of you, my beloved?" Achilles said. He stroked along Patroclus' thighs and touched his aching cock lightly, smiling at the jerk of hips in response.

"Your fingers, again," Patroclus answered breathlessly. He took Achilles' hand in his and pushed it between his thighs, too aroused to feel embarrassed for so openly demanding what he wanted.

Achilles groaned and slid his fingers inside easily, curling and thrusting them with determined purpose. Patroclus saw stars again, dimly aware that Achilles was moving lower, repositioning for-- _oh._ Achilles ducked his head down to take Patroclus in his mouth, bobbing quickly and pressing his tongue flat against the sensitive underside. Patroclus shook so violently with need that he was afraid Achilles might stop to ask if he was all right. He did not; he kept up the relentless pace of his fingers and his mouth, only ceasing when he felt Patroclus come down his throat.

When Patroclus came down from his high, he remembered what Achilles had said while he was so very distracted: _You would agree, that I have not forgotten, my dear Patroclus?_

"I would agree, Achilles," Patroclus said, his voice sounded far away, dazed. "You have not forgotten how to satisfy me."

\---

They dressed again, Achilles fully and Pat only partially--he didn't need to look decent for anyone. He might even pleasure himself again after Achilles left, he thought, touching the vial of oil beside him and smirking.

"One more thing, before I am to go," Achilles started, his face suddenly serious, his jaw set. "I fear you will not like it, but I have to ask."

Patroclus' smirk vanished like a blown flame, all his indulgent thoughts replaced with anxious ones. _What is it? Oh, gods, what is it?_ He braced himself for the worst, for all of his greatest fears to be realized.

Achilles produced a stuffed toy, an ant. It looked handmade, but not by Achilles' hands--it thrummed with an odd, otherworldly energy. _Oh, I get it._ Patroclus thought. _An ant, like the Myrmidons, how clever._ He did not know what else he was supposed to glean from the thing. He felt strangely drawn to it, however.

"It is meant for Zagreus, I had been thinking, perhaps--perhaps we could aid him on his way to the surface, in a more direct way." Achilles thumbed at the toy's antennae nervously.

"What do you mean, a more direct way?"

"To...fight alongside him, were he to call upon us."

"Achilles... You know what you are asking of me."

"I do."

"And still you ask."

"I do."

Patroclus sighed through his nose, regarded the stuffed toy, Achilles' hopeful smile.

 _Let us fight for a common cause, one we both believe in, one without such a terrible risk._ Patroclus shook his head, astounded that he was considering it, that the idea was even exciting to him. He saw himself and Achilles bearing down on the Champions of Elysium, showing them what the best of the Myrmidons were capable of. He imagined a powerful blow to Theseus' defense, the way the idiot's smug grin would falter, the way he would stumble. He saw Achilles easily knocking away a thrown spear--Theseus' counter--and then Zagreus, triumphantly sending the Champion back to the Styx with a final, decisive lunge.

Patroclus also thought of the Prince himself, how important he had become to him, to them. Zagreus was there when Patroclus was truly a lost soul and played no small part in Patroclus finding his way back to himself. _Yes, he would take up a spear for this boy._

"I'll do it."

"You will?" Achilles' voice was full of joy, relief.

"I will. I suppose I'll sharpen this old spear, if it's to be used again." he mused.

Achilles kneeled and embraced him tightly. "It will be different now, Patroclus. I promise you I do not pursue glory and honor in this, and I would not leave your side again."

Patroclus smiled at Achilles' reassurances; of course he assumed Patroclus worried Ares would capture Achilles in his terrible darkness again, that wielding a spear would flood him with bloodlust. Patroclus did not have this worry. What Achilles became in Troy was honed sharply by outside forces--forces that could no longer touch them, here in paradise. Mortal kings and bad actors, weaving their threads and ensnaring Achilles so completely, using him as a weapon and nothing more.

"I know, and I believe you. That was war, this is sport." Patroclus said, taking Achilles' hands in his. "It will be different now," he echoed.

Achilles nodded, swallowed back the emotion that threatened to come. Achilles' hands said what he could not; he entwined their fingers together, stroked along the lines of Patroclus' knuckles, lightly marred from his mortal days. _I am so sorry that it was not different before, when we lived._

Patroclus leaned in to kiss his forehead, the corner of his mouth. He squeezed the hands that clasped his. _Do not despair the past, my love. You are here now._

"Patroclus...how I hate to say it, but, you know I must--" Achilles started to say. _It's time to go back._

"Yes, I know you must. Take these with you, Achilles," Patroclus said, giving him the rest of the figs. "We'll get more the next time you visit. I want to show you where I found them, it's not far from here. It was so beautiful."

Achilles brightened and grinned; Patroclus saw the boy he knew, full of mischief and excitement.

"I look forward to it." Their lips met again and lingered, wanting to delay the inevitable just a moment longer. "I will return as soon as I'm able, my dear Patroclus."

Another kiss, and then Achilles was gone, with a sound like a rush of wind.

Patroclus stretched out on the lush grass, reached over to idly pluck at the lyre Achilles left behind. He smiled, started to hum the song Achilles had played for him.

_Yes, it will be different, now._

\---

_Farewell_

_To all the earthly remains_

_No burdens_

_No further debts to be paid_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my thanks and love to my wife, the long-suffering Patroclus to my Achilles, the earth to my fire; may historians remember us as the greatest of gal pals. <3
> 
> [twitter!](https://twitter.com/peanuts_envy)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patroclus tries to get more comfortable with the chthonic deities of the Underworld. Das trio Pat/Achilles/Zag have a friendly spar; Patroclus is caught off-guard by his least favorite Olympian (little a angst, as a treat), and has catharsis via physical beatdown of his least favorite Elysium resident.

Existence became comfortable and easy in a way it had never been in life. Achilles visited Elysium often, bringing stories from the House of Hades that Patroclus could scarcely believe--usually from their absurdity.

_'The lad commissioned a sundial, of all things, at the behest of his father--'_

_'...A sundial? But--why? Helios cannot--'_

_'Oh, I know.'_

_'Then, for what purpose--'_

_Achilles laughed and shook his head, at a loss._

_'I also caught a glimpse of Zagreus' quarters; he has a wall-scroll with my likeness. I don't know where he found such a thing.'_

_'The boy has your portrait in his bedchambers?' Patroclus asked, amused. 'How curious. I wonder if he could procure another.'_

_Achilles groaned. 'I beg you not to.'_

_'You cannot stop me.'_

Patroclus asked Achilles about his colleagues, such as they were, and apparently--they asked about him, too.

_'Megaera has been curious about you, though she's also complained to me that I'm too happy now, that it annoys her.'_

Megaera of the Erinyes, annoyed with him. Patroclus expressed worry at this, how could he not--she was known for her extreme cruelty, her spiked whip--but Achilles assured him; they were friends. She also drew a hard line between work and leisure: when she was at the House, she was off-duty. The notion still floored Patroclus. _This is just her job._

Otherworldly deities, the very concepts of Death and Sleep, were putting in hours and filling out parchmentwork. _Were they really so different from mortals?_

\---

Patroclus repeated the sentiment as he readied himself to finally go to Charon's shop. _They are not so different from mortals._ Achilles had given him plenty of coin and he still had the black-and-gold card Zagreus had given him. _This is just a visit to the local merchant. You have coin and he has goods, it is simple. Just buy what you are there for and leave._ He could not stop the shudder that came when he thought of the boatman's grim visage. Patroclus chastised his own reaction and headed toward the great iron doors. _He is just a merchant._

\---

"Hhhh _hhhhaaaaagh_." Charon groaned and raised his hand in greeting.

Patroclus felt the urge to flee; maybe he wasn't ready, after all, for this--this creature, this towering, hideous creature-- _oh gods it's looking right at me_ \--

_Stop this. You are a Myrmidon. He is a merchant. His name is Charon, go greet him._

"Hail, boatman Charon," he forced himself to say, willed himself to move forward. The shop's wares were expansive, far more elaborate and varied than any shop Patroclus had seen when he was mortal. There were massive banners of the Champions of Elysium for sale; Patroclus considered purchasing them as a jest, but ultimately did not want to be seen with Theseus' merchandise. Anything that could be seen as even tacit approval for Theseus, the idiot King of Athens, was not something he wanted. (His feelings toward the Bull of Minos were neutral, though Patroclus questioned his choice of company and judge of character. It was not his business.)

Charon had all manner of items one would need for battle, Elysium's favorite pastime: weapons for every discipline, armor made of leathers and bronze, tools for maintenance, accessories to adorn yourself and your weapons. Anything a warrior could possibly imagine, and then more. Patroclus found himself in awe. He didn't feel the urge to grab what he was after--a whet stone--and scurry back to his glade, as he planned to before. He wanted to browse now. _Why not? I have time and coin._

His arms were full when he approached Charon again. Patroclus showed him the strange card, trusting what Zagreus told him about it was true. Charon nodded and hissed, then held his palm open. Patroclus hesitated, tried not to recoil. _He is just a merchant._

"H-how much, did you say?"

Another groan, a billow of purple smoke. It could have meant anything.

Patroclus put the entire coin purse in Charon's hand, not knowing what else to do. Charon closed his hand around it briefly, then held it back out for Patroclus--it was noticeably lighter.

"Hhhhhaaaaagggh." Charon tipped the wide brim of his hat, billowed more purple smoke. Patroclus thanked him--he was not quite able to meet Charon's eye; perhaps he could, someday, but not today--and returned to the glade.

\---

Patroclus laid out what he'd purchased at Charon's shop: a whet stone, a polishing cloth, a small utility blade, sculpture's tools. He also, indulgently, bought himself a golden thigh band. Such things were popular on the surface as well as in Elysium--to adorn your best features in gold, to draw the eye. He liked how it looked against his skin, and knew Achilles would, too.

He settled in the grass with his spear and sharpening stone. Maintaining his weapon was something he enjoyed greatly in life and he found the same was true in his afterlife. The precise, controlled motions of metal against stone almost put him in a meditative state. He felt like his hands moved on their own; the act was so practiced, so familiar. Patroclus tested its sharpness by drawing a fig against the blade; the flesh gave easily. He popped a fig half in his mouth. _A few more turns, then it will be ready._ He enjoyed the sweet fruit and the easy, repetitive motion of his hands.

Patroclus heard a rush of wind and smiled, turning the spear in his hands. _It is time, then._

"I would like to spar today." Patroclus said, tipping his spear back and pulling himself up on it.

Achilles looked like he would vibrate out of his skin, he lit up with so much excitement. Patroclus closed the distance between them and their lips met.

"Truly?" Achilles said, almost in a whisper.

"If I'm to help your ward, I should not be so out of practice."

Achilles undid his cloak quickly, as if Patroclus might change his mind at any moment and he needed to seize this one, where Patroclus was going to grant him this. Achilles had mentioned before how dull it could be in the House. No shade was going to take up arms against the great Achilles and Zagreus had not trained with him since his journeys to the surface began.

Patroclus' feelings on fighting had changed considerably as of late. What had been a loud, resounding _never again_ had waned and become _what's the harm in it, really?_ There was no fear of injury or death; the stakes were so low, now. He pared battle down to its parts: the act in and of itself was good exercise, his form had been quite the point of pride, once, and--well.

Achilles had asked him so sweetly.

Patroclus tied his hair back with a band of leather, rolled his shoulders, pulled his arms taut behind him. He hummed, stretching his long-stationary limbs felt good. _It has been a long time, hasn't it?_ Achilles watched Patroclus openly as he took off his cloak, tossed it aside. His gaze lingered on Patroclus' new golden thigh band. Patroclus smiled at him. _Later, Achilles._

"Are you ready, beloved?" Achilles' eyes sparkled, like he was about to pounce.

Patroclus rolled his shoulders again and took up his newly-sharpened spear.

"I am, my heart." he answered, grinning at Achilles.

Their dance began.

Battle was Achilles' fated purpose, his birthright and his greatest skill. The best fighter of his generation. Patroclus counted himself lucky that he was never in any real danger of Achilles' spear. There was no bloodshed in their sparring, nor humiliating defeats. Patroclus didn't compare his skill to Achilles'--he wasn't delusional enough to do so--but Achilles did not draw comparisons, either. Patroclus was a more than competent fighter, the best of the Myrmidons, trained by the same mentor as the great Heracles.

_Gods, it really had been a long time since he’d practiced._

Patroclus' spear caught the ground and he readjusted his grip quickly, lunging toward Achilles. His grip was off, he saw his mistake immediately, as did Achilles. He disarmed Patroclus with a smirk.

"Your form was dismal; come try it again correctly." Achilles said, then blushed hotly.

_This is how he would speak to Zagreus_. Patroclus' eyes went to him, the spear on the ground. _The audacity._

"What did you say?"

"I don't recall."

"You would dare."

"You misheard."

" _Achilles_."

"...I was not wrong, however--"

" _Achilles_!"

" _Patroclus_ ," Achilles grinned at him, impish but with no trace of malice.

Patroclus was readying his return remark when the door to the glade opened.

"Hello, sirs!" Zagreus exclaimed, on his usual route to the irresistibly breakable urns below. "It's good to see you both here! What are you two up to, this day or night?"

"Ah, Achilles is helping me get my martial skill back to where it used to be." Patroclus said, retrieving his spear. "How goes your journey to the surface?"

"Very well! I had another contest of strength with Charon, of which I was the victor, again." Zagreus bounded up the stairs, showing off his new black-and-gold card.

"Good on you, lad, you've done well." Achilles sounded proud.

Zagreus beamed. "Thank you, Achilles! You know, Than didn't think I could do it, spar his brother and not get sent straight home. I can't _wait_ to see the look on his face when I tell him!"

"I have a thought, stranger--" Patroclus started, and Zagreus was already nodding--far too eager to please, agreeing without knowing what he was agreeing to. "I would like to see you fight. I have heard enough stories, I want to see for myself."

Zagreus looked uncertain, glanced at Achilles for an answer. Achilles smiled at him.

"If you have the time, of course. I have no objections to you showing dear Patroclus all that I've taught you." Achilles told Zagreus.

"What say you?" Patroclus asked, regarding his spear and then the prince.

"I've got time."

"Good lad."

Patroclus shot a playful look at Achilles. _Whose side are you on?_ Achilles simply grinned.

Zagreus' fighting style was, unsurprisingly, very similar to Achilles'. He had the same unnatural speed, the same unrelenting offense. There was a slight lack of finesse, an unconcerned brashness in his movements that was perhaps just overt confidence. Or, perhaps, when death has never been a true concern, you could afford to take bigger risks.

Zagreus made a motion like he was throwing something, but his hand was empty. Patroclus' confusion was interrupted by an eruption of black and red smoke tearing at the earth. A swirling, violent thing formed from nothing--then the sounds came. The rift was letting out shrieks of pain and terror, sounds of clashing blades and roaring battle cries. _War. It sounded like war_. Patroclus couldn't move--the sickening howling, the eerie way it drifted closer--froze him in place.

" _Pat!_ " Achilles sounded so far away.

"Sir!"

Patroclus felt himself get tugged back, felt his head thud against stone.

\---

Patroclus opened his eyes and saw Achilles and Zagreus over him, both looking desperately worried. He hadn't fainted--he wasn't sure that shades could--but he was flat on his back, regardless.

"What was that?" Achilles and Patroclus demanded, nearly in unison.

"A boon from Lord Ares--"

They both physically reacted to the name and Zagreus flushed hotly with embarrassment and realization.

"I apologize, I was overexcited--I know I got carried away--"

Patroclus chuckled, sitting up. "I am unused to fighting gods. I forget you can do the unexplainable. I simply wield a spear, stranger. You are a truly formidable opponent."

Zagreus looked deeply conflicted, happy with the praise, but still in the throes of apologizing.

"You're not mad at me, sir?"

"I won't fault you for using all the tools you have at your disposal, stranger--although, I would ask you to not invoke that god here, again." Patroclus said, and Zagreus nodded furiously.

"Would it still be all right, if I called on you when I arrived at the arena?" Zagreus asked with a tentative smile.

Achilles looked at Patroclus. _Are you willing to keep fighting today?_

Patroclus gave him a slight nod, slid a hand to Achilles' back to further reassure him. Achilles relaxed his shoulders and turned back to Zagreus.

"We'll be there for you, lad."

\---

_'Achilles, help!'_

Theseus' attacks seemed slow and predictable, compared to Achilles'. He seemed more interested showing off for the crowd than covering his defenses; his attacks had unnecessary flourishes, added follow-through for no martial benefit. Zagreus seemed secondary, only a small player in a show that starred Theseus.

Theseus threw his arms open to address the crowd.

"Look now, _monster!_ The hero Achilles comes to my aid!" Theseus cried, "This daemon will fall under our combined, righteous might! To arms, brothers!"

Patroclus gripped his spear tightly, turned his gaze to Theseus. _He is a shade. He cannot die._

_He is a king._

_Do not hold back._

"Hail, King of Athens." Patroclus said, as he drove his spear through Theseus' exposed chest. Theseus made a high-pitched, annoyed sound; he had not expected such a betrayal. Patroclus savored the fury and confusion on Theseus' face.

"My fellow warriors-- _why?_ "

Achilles knocked away an incoming attack from the Bull of Minos and left a gash across Asterius' broad chest, driving the minotaur to bellow and charge at him. He flitted around the arena effortlessly, enraging Asterius further. Achilles could do this all day. This was not their fight, however.

"You'll take it from here, lad?"

"Fight well, stranger."

"Thank you, sirs!"

\---

When they reappeared in the glade, Achilles embraced Patroclus with such force he toppled him to the ground. They were both laughing, the thrill of Elysium's stadium, of fighting alongside each other again made them giddy. Achilles sat up, but stayed firmly on Patroclus' legs, grinning down at him.

"You were _incredible_ , philtatos!"

"Did you see the look on his face?" Patroclus could barely catch his breath.

"My fellow warriors! _Why?_ " Achilles croaked, his imitation of Theseus was striking. They howled with laughter anew.

"Achilles," Patroclus said, and Achilles hummed. "Do we have enough time to visit the gardens?"

"We do."

"Will you bring the lyre?"

"Mhm." Achilles was distracted by Patroclus' golden thigh band, running his fingertips along the shining metal. Desire stirred in Patroclus and it was easy to imagine all of the things they could do--and had done--in the Elysian gardens.

"Do we have time for that, as well?" Patroclus slid his hands along Achilles' hips, met his gaze.

"I will make time." Achilles said quickly. Patroclus felt his cheeks warm and Achilles leaned in to kiss him. Patroclus' phantom heart thudded in his chest, the happiness and love that rose in him was overwhelming.

Achilles pressed their noses together and hopped off him, gathering up their cloaks, the lyre. Patroclus scoffed when Achilles picked up the vial of oil and made pointed eye contact, raised his eyebrows. _Yes, that, too._ They both grinned.

"Come, dear Patroclus, we've pressing matters to discuss in the gardens." Achilles said, holding his hand out for Patroclus to take. He let himself be pulled up, into Achilles' waiting arms. _His golden harbor. His greatest love._

_Things are different now._

_This is how it will be, always._

\---

_Atlas_

_Can rest his weary bones_

_The weight of the world_

_All falls away_

_In time_

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and for da nice comments! Gosh I love these battle husbands, just super neat guys!!
> 
> I wrote a follow-up to this fic called [Can't Just Ask](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29033076) where Zagreus gets up in the mix~ 
> 
> [twitter!](https://twitter.com/peanuts_envy)


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